


Righteously Impure

by AuraSweet13



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: But he gets what he deserves, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Character Death, The Director is a creep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraSweet13/pseuds/AuraSweet13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Kotsiopulos considers himself a man devoted to the causes of his organization. But despite that, he is first and foremost a man, vulnerable to humanity's most base desires, and Samar Navabi isn't helping. This is not a romantic story, but a dark and obsessive one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Righteously Impure

**Author's Note:**

> This practically begged to be written after Sir Crispin Crandall. It felt like a rabid monkey was on my back, begging me to write it. So I did.

A man and a woman were each being abducted?

As a religious man, Peter Kotsiopulos could more than appreciate the irony of it, and the careful planning that had clearly gone into it.

"Once he chooses a discipline" Peter was aware of Samar coming over to lean against the desk. He glanced over at her, unable to stop his eyes from wandering down her body as she continued to speak. "he completes the pair before moving on." Luckily for him, though, she was looking at the screen, oblivious to the way he was looking at her.

She was a beautiful woman. But, taking into consideration that he'd always had an attraction to dark haired women, the fact that he thought so was unsurprising.

 _Imagine her being the other half of your pair._ Almost as soon as the thought entered his head, he pushed it away. The organization came first, and as such he couldn't allow himself to be tempted by the desires of the flesh.

But even knowing that didn't stop him from staring at her as she left with Agent Ressler.

 

Peter felt at home in the enclosed space of the confessional. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." The words came as naturally to him as breathing, as muscle memory kicked in and he made the sign of the cross solemnly. As it should have, considering how often he had spoken them in church in his youth. His mother had forced him to confess every week, but he had plenty of sins for each go around. “It has been six days since my last confession,” he continued.

"What is it, son?" The priest asked, and not for the first time, Peter wondered how differently his life would have ended up had he chosen the priesthood, rather than the life he currently lived. An unfulfilled one, to say the least.

 _You wouldn’t be trapped in a corner by the devil every day, though,_  his conscience offered.  _Lured in by a temptress with the only goal in mind to corrupt you. Your thoughts._

"What do you seek retribution for?" He was jolted out of his thoughts as the priest spoke again. Samar Navabi was in his head, it seemed, if thoughts of her could drown out his religious rituals.

"I've been having thoughts of a woman," he said, a sugar coat at best. Peter thought he'd feel better by admitting that. He didn't. If anything, the desire had only grown.  _Dirty,_  he thought.  _Disgusting._  
And to hell if he didn’t enjoy every second of it. 

"These thoughts, they’ve been…interfering with my work. I know better than to act upon them. Which, I suppose, is why I'm here now, Father." He stared straight ahead at the closed wooden door, the prayers of the priest granting him atonement well on deaf ears. He whispered a few prayers as if they truly made a difference and, as he left, he found himself thinking about her.

 

When the prayers he'd been given didn't work, he tried to appease his desires by just looking. Subtle glances, of course, and only when he was absolutely certain she was engaged in something else-talking with Agents Mojtabai or Ressler, filling out a case report-and therefore wouldn't catch him.

Oh, she was  _exquisite._

He especially liked how she looked when she was deeply focused on work or some other task. The concentration turned her already pretty face into something that was almost ethereal. As much as he didn't enjoy working in this tiny building with a secretive task force, he had to admit that having her around to look at made the whole experience more bearable.

 

Eventually, though, just looking stopped being enough.

 

That night, he had a dream like no other he'd ever experienced before. She was under him, moaning his name, slender fingers clutching the sheets of his bed. Her skin was soft under his touch, her body highly responsive. Her dark hair was splayed across the pillows like a halo, and he could even smell the perfume she wore, that he could only get a whiff of if he walked by at the right time.

It felt so real that when he was stirred to consciousness by his alarm, he was equal parts relieved and frustrated.

How did he stop this?

 

"Don't look now, but Director Creepy is staring at you." Samar resisted the urge to look as she heard Aram's words, barely a whisper, by her ear.

She also resisted the urge to say  _I think he's been staring at me for weeks. I'm surprised you're just noticing it now._ "If we just ignore him, maybe he'll go away." She offered just as softly.  _I wish, but I seriously doubt that's going to happen anytime soon._

 

Samar couldn't believe what she'd found-the small list of numbers and names would certainly be helpful to Liz. Printing it out would be too risky, however, so she did the next best thing. Grabbing a pen, she wrote them down as quickly as she could while still making sure it was legible, and then covertly signed out of the account she was using to find it.

"What do you have there, Miss Navabi?" Samar startled and looked up, seeing the Director looming in the doorway. He wasn't a large man, but his presence was an intimidating one. Especially as of late, where his behaviour had been unprofessional at best and borderline perverted at worst. She was getting really sick of all the testosterone.

"Personal project. Nothing you'd find interesting." She responded smoothly, not daring to take her eyes off of him.

His eyes narrowed, she could see he was suspicious. "Really?" There was a note of interest in his tone as he entered the office. "Try me."

"It's just some rumours about a terrorist organization testing cryogenics on unwilling victims. Really, it's nothing  _you_  should worry about." She put the list behind her back and started towards the door, trying not to go near him as she did so. "I mean, surely a man of your calibre has actual problems to focus on."

His hand shot out and he grabbed her arm. She gasped as she felt his fingers digging just so into her arm. "Have you forgotten who I am? What I'm capable of? I own the FBI, I own this task force, and," He leaned in, and she turned her head away. "I own  _you._ I suggest you watch how you speak to me,  _Miss_ Navabi." There wasn't a trace of the interest she'd heard earlier in his tone now, just venom.

Knowing she was probably going to regret this, she spat at him and ripped her arm away from him, not letting the list slip from behind her back. "Yes,  _sir_." Her tone was just as venomous, she made sure of that as she stormed out of the office.

Peter stared after her, caught off guard by the almost suffocating wave of desire that he felt.

 

Samar knew she'd made a huge mistake talking to the Director like she had. It was only a matter of time before he found a way to make her pay for it. And given the way he seemed to be eyeing her these past few weeks, she didn't want to find out what that way would be.

When it came time to leave for the night, Samar shook her head, grabbed her things and got up. "Goodnight." She said softly, turning to Aram.

"Night, Samar. Sleep well." Aram looked concerned, but he didn't say anything. 

Shaking her head, trying not to take out her frustration on Aram, she headed to the elevator.

Not more than a minute or two could've passed before he saw the Director heading in the same direction, probably to leave. But even knowing that, he got up and walked over. "Why are you here?" He didn't like confrontation in the slightest, so he was keeping his voice as calm, neutral and non-confrontational as possible.

The smile the Director had on his face was nothing short of malicious. He leaned in slightly. "God help the outcasts." He said cryptically, and walked away, leaving Aram both baffled and unsettled.

 

Solomon had been arrested by the FBI. Peter resisted the urge to get angry as he entered the interrogation room and shut the door behind himself before sitting down across from him. "You were careless, Matias." He said bluntly.

"And your head is clouded, Peter." Matias countered. "You're distracted, even I can see that. But, I'm not surprised. There are plenty of beautiful women in this facility." He scrutinized Peter. "Especially the lovely agent who escorted me into the building." He seemed to consider something, and then snapped his fingers. "Navabi. Samar. A pretty thing, that one."

Peter shifted in his seat, eyes narrowed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Matias' brow rose. "No? Well, then, I think you need new glasses, my friend." At his words, Peter's frown deepened and his brows furrowed. "Peter, it's just the two of us in here. You can tell me if you've noticed her, I won't judge. I sure did. Then again, she's a bit too young for you, isn't she?"

"What are you trying to do, Matias?" Peter asked, teeth clenched tightly enough to hurt his jaw.

"That." Matias responded. "I'm trying to get a reaction out of you. And I think I just found the reason why your head is so clouded. Again, not that I can blame you. If I had the chance, I'd be on that faster than you could blink."

"Well I'm not you." Peter got out.

"Clearly." Matias rolled his eyes.

"Why did you let yourself be caught? You were supposed to eliminate Reddington and Keen." Peter was in dire need of a subject change.

"I didn't  _let_  myself be anything. Although I must admit, I'm certainly glad they brought me in. I have a hell of a view." A coy smirk made its way across his face. "I'm sure she'd love to hear that." He quipped. "Considering how taken she is with you. How could she possibly resist?" Sarcasm dripped from his tone, and if Peter had to go from only the grin on his face, he'd guess that Matias was thoroughly enjoying himself. Like he always seemed to. "Or maybe she's already listening in right now." Both men turned their attention to the one way glass, which displayed their slightly distorted reflections, as the realization sank in that there was someone on the other side of the mirror, looking in. Listening to their every word. "Ooh, that's awkward." Matias said with a sympathetic wince that Peter suspected was more mocking than anything else. "I wonder who it is that heard our conversation, though? Well, there's only one way to find out." He turned his attention back to the mirror. "Care to join us, sweetheart?" Peter watched with bated breath as the door opened, and Samar walked in.

"Don't call me that." Samar's tone was sharp as she addressed Matias, who held his hands up. Then she turned to face Peter, and the anger he saw on her face, in her eyes, actually, genuinely scared him. "I  _knew_  there was something off about you. And that was even before you started trying to hit on me." She glared at him, and it took everything he had not to shrink away. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Matheus grinning like the Cheshire Cat himself.

"I really wish I had some popcorn right now." He said.

Samar whirled to look at him, and he shut his mouth right away. "Good." She said coldly, and turned back to Peter. "I'll tell you what,  _sir_ ," Her tone was very much mocking. "you have one chance to plead your case." Her arms crossed over her chest. "Impress me."

Peter swallowed. He had no doubts, both from her posture and her facial expression, that if he screwed up his explanation, she'd kill him. "I...I will admit, I found myself, for lack of a better term, attracted to you."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?" Samar snapped. "Because being watched and ogled for two weeks straight isn't exactly something I'd call flattering. Not to mention having my personal space invaded, repeatedly."

"I wouldn't have hurt you, Samar." Peter said, ignoring the way Matias coughed something that sounded like 'Liar'.

"Really? Because the conversation we had in the office the other day begs to differ." Samar didn't seem impressed. "You're familiar with the Bible?" Scared as to why she was asking him that, he nodded. The smile on her face was anything but nice. "Good, because I have a passage for you. Isaiah chapter 13, verses 9 and 10. _Behold, the day of the Lord is coming, cruel, with fury and burning anger, to make the land a desolation; and He will exterminate its sinners from it. For the stars of heaven and their constellations, will not flash forth their light; the sun will be dark when it rises, and the moon will not shed its light._ And for the record, don't call me Samar. Or Miss Navabi, for that matter. From now on, to you, I'm Agent Navabi. Understood?" Peter nodded. "Good, then I have nothing left to say to either of you." With those words, she walked out.

 

Samar was exhausted and irritated as she parked her car. Wanting to do nothing more than sleep, she got out of the car and locked it up.

She got a chill down her back, like she wasn't alone. Taking some comfort in the knife she had in her boot, she headed not into the building, but towards the alley. If someone had followed her home, she sure as hell didn't want them knowing where she lived.

Best to eliminate the problem now.

As she walked, she bent down to take the knife out of her boot, heading into the alley.

Whoever it was following her kicked a stone. The last mistake they'd ever make.

She whirled and held the knife to their throat. "On your knees, now. I'm not in the mood for games." Samar's voice was nearly emotionless. In the light of the moon, she could make out the face of Peter Kotsiopulos as he complied with her demand.

Peter felt nothing but fear as he sank to his knees, looking up at her. She was a tall woman in general, but from this position, she dwarfed him. In that moment, he felt like she was the Angel of Death personified, and she had finally come for him. Raymond's words rang in his head, though if he had to bet, he'd guess that Raymond had no idea she was doing this. "Agent Navabi..." He didn't know where he wanted to go with that sentence.

A cruel smile found its way onto her face, made even more unsettling due to the fact that in the alley, the only light they had was that of the moon, and it made her look almost unearthly. All she was missing were the wings. "It's about time you addressed me right, you bastard." She spat. "Too bad that can't save you." She cocked her head slightly, which only added to the menacing aura around her. "You know, there was more to that passage I gave you earlier. Isaiah chapter 13, verse 11." She stepped forward, pressing the knife to his throat just so. _"Thus I will punish the world for its evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; I will also put an end to the arrogance of the proud, and abase the haughtiness of the ruthless._ " And then he felt the blade move across his neck.

The only angel he would see was the Angel of Death, in the mortal form of Samar Navabi. And the last thing he saw before everything went black was her smile.

 

It was two days before Peter Kotsiopulos' body was found. It was behind a dumpster, and looked like a mugging. Even the slash across his throat didn't seem as violent, except for the blood around his body and on his clothes. A search by the local police department confirmed that his wallet was missing. All the signs at the crime scene pointed to it.

"I just don't understand who would've done this." Laurel Hitchens said as she looked down at the body.

Samar kept her eyes on the body, and her mind flashed back to the wallet she'd burned to ash and then scattered in the Anacostia.


End file.
